Page 78 of One Hellish Wedlock
***************
Reyansh tossed in bed that night, staring at the faint glow from beneath Aanya’s quilt. It was nearly 1:00 a.m., and she wasstill on her phone. He reached over and pulled the cover down, revealing her startled face.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped.
Aanya jerked upright, clutching her phone.
“Why do you care?” she hissed. “I’m not disturbing your sleep, am I?”
“You’ve been avoiding me for days. What’s going on? Are you still mad about what I said at the party?”
His hand moved almost on instinct, brushing a knuckle gently along her cheek. Soft. Unthinking. Like his fingers had a mind of their own. His touch lingered longer than it should have.
Aanya blinked, thrown by the tenderness in his touch, the concern in his voice. She sat up, struggling to breathe through the sudden intensity of the moment.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Reyansh. I don’t take your words to heart, and you shouldn’t either. This is adeal, remember? Nothing serious or permanent.”
Reyansh didn’t like what she said.
“This deal might end, but our marriage doesn’t. Don’t forget, I’m and I’ll still be your husband. I have every right to know what’s going on behind my back.”
She snapped. “There’s nothing happening that might tarnish your saintly public image, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That means somethingisgoing on.”
Her stomach churned. She had said too much. She hoped he didn’t figure it out before her interview. She needed space. She needed strength. And she certainly didn’t need his permission.
“Can we please just sleep?” she said, her voice tired. “I’m not in the mood to argue tonight.”
She turned away from him, dragging the quilt back over her head, hiding herself from him, and from everyone else who didn’t deserve to know what she planned to do with her life.
But Reyansh remained awake. Whatever she was hiding, he would find out. Anyhow!
****************
The next morning, Aanya stepped out of the cab and stood before the towering building. She was nervous. Multiple firms and IT companies had their offices within the structure, but she had come here for her interview at an interior design firm on the fourteenth floor. After showing her interview call letter at the reception desk, she made her way to the elevators.
She had dressed as professionally as she could—crisp, semi-formal white shirt tucked into a sleek black business skirt. Her hair was tied into a neat, low bun, thanks to Navya, who had insisted on helping her google the right look for such an occasion. She wanted to look undeniably professional.
The elevator was packed initially, but as it ascended, people disembarked floor by floor. By the time it reached the twelfth floor, she was alone, until the doors slid open again.
And there he stood.
Reyansh Chopra.
He stepped in without a word and pressed the button for the eighteenth floor. Aanya’s heart pounded. She opened her mouth to speak, but words tangled in her throat. Just as the elevator halted on the fourteenth floor, her destination, she moved to exit, but his hand shot out, clasped her wrist, and slammed the button to close the doors again.
“You’re not going there,” he growled.
The elevator began rising again.
“Reyansh, let me go. I have an interview,” she snapped, yanking her wrist.
“I figured as much the moment I saw you walking into this building,” he replied, teeth gritted.
“Then why not just mind your damn business?” she shouted.
“Because you’re busy meddling in mine,” he shot back.
